


To Decathect

by viraseii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viraseii/pseuds/viraseii
Summary: Lance looks over at him, his purple eyes catching the orange light and refracting it into a color Lance can’t understand. His hair is fluttering slightly in the breeze, edges curling around his cheeks, his eyebrows, his jaw, the base of his neck. The first time Lance saw this kid, he had round cheeks and messy hair, a pouty demeanor and a stuck-up arrogance. Now he has high cheekbones, tousled locks, a sharp jawline, years of war in his eyes and a chin raised not in arrogance but in determination and confidence. It makes Lance feel lost when he looks at him.Keith’s eyes slide over to meet Lance’s. He smiles. “What?”“You don’t have to go back out there,” is what falls from Lance’s mouth. “You don’t have to keep yourself in this fight. You could stay here with the rest of us.”Keith’s eyebrows pull together, like he’s worried. “I’m part of the Blade of Marmora,” he says quietly. “This is what I belong to. I can’t just sit here.”Lance turns back to the sunset. “I thought you’d say something like that."-In which Lance is afraid, Keith is running, and everything hurts.





	To Decathect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Resamille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/gifts).



> nya

“I want to go home,” Lance says softly one evening when they’re chilling in the teacher’s lounge. It’s after hours - all the normal cadets that still remain at the garrison are in their barracks. Cool Paladin privileges include no bedtime unless you’re Pidge, but it’s not like being confined to a room stops Pidge from doing whatever the hell she wants.

“What do you mean?” her hologram asks him, curled up on the seat across him. Case in point.

“Home,” Lance explains. “My house.”

“It’s not there anymore, Lance,” Veronica murmurs. “Sendak’s forces attacked simultaneously, all around the earth. I would be surprised to find even a single building still standing there.”

Lance gets that. He knows that. It’s almost laughable that Veronica, his sister who _didn’t_ go up to space to fight an all powerful evil empire for a year is the one trying to explain to him the kind of damage said empire can cause. Really - it’s funny. Fucking hilarious.

He must have smiled, because Pidge asks, “Lance?”

“I love how we get back to Earth and it’s destroyed,” he sighs. “At least we left at the right time and.... it wasn’t worse.”

Because, sure, he knows how much they all miss the scenery, especially after looking at thousands of alien skies, alien constellations, alien oceans, alien cities. He knows it stings like an open wound festering to come back and realize there were so many things they _wanted_ to see and never will. He knows Keith and his mother were able to go out to where they used to live and he knows Keith came back as stoic and silent as ever, but he’s memorized all of Keith’s silences and this one was grief.

He leans back. “When we’re fit for flight again, maybe I can get Nadia or someone to fly me out there.” He frowns. “Do you think we can graduate now that we’re back? We have enough flight experience.”

“We don’t have enough credits,” Pidge supplies. “And I don’t know where we’d pull the resources from.”

“We saved reality, we saved all the credits, we deserve all the credits.”

It doesn’t sound real, though, when they talk about it. Lance still doesn’t know a goddamn thing about his life, what he’s doing, what he wants, where he wants to wind up in the... future, whatever that means now. He could go back and recount every major battle they’ve fought, every time they’ve failed, every time someone’s died. But it feels like a memory of a dream of reading a book - it feels so fake.

He laughs.

It still hurts to laugh. His lungs are still healing and his bones still feel weak, brittle - his muscles are better and he’s able to run about a mile, now, but breathing is harder.

They’re all waiting with bated breath, hoping they can heal and get back to their full strength while the garrison researches the Altean robot they fought. They don’t know if there will be more. They don’t know where it came from. They don’t know a damn thing and all they can do is wait - and try to breathe normally again. And hope they’ll be prepared in time.

-

Obviously, Sam can’t authorize Lance a visit to his hometown. The threat of Sendak is gone, but Garrison resources are spread thin as it is trying to slowly salvage any refugees they can and rebuild the planet. Not to mention Lance’s lungs are still wrecked. He needs to pass the physicals before they even let him on so much as a transport ship.

They all just really need to rest, to be honest. Lance knows that, knows he’s been craving this chance since the moment they were all shot into space, knows there’s a very real possibility hat Haggar’s still out there and that pretty soon they could be back to war.

He hates that word. He wishes he’d at the very _least_ had a little more time - he wishes he hadn’t been 17 when he was nearly killed in his first explosion. At the end of the day, what’s done is done, but his thoughts refuse to let the past die.

The garrison gym doesn’t have space for sword-fighting, so he clears out half the shooting range and uses tech Pidge integrated from the lions to create a quick simulation. Ten minutes, forty targets.

He’s been running this one since he could walk again. It wasn’t too hard before - now he has to work at it. He’s getting better, but he’s forgotten how much it sucks ass to fail.

“I see you here a lot,” says a familiar voice from behind him as he clears the last target. He turns slowly to look at Hunk, near the doors and behind the safety glass. His voice is just slightly muffled.

“Yeah. Just, trying to keep in shape, I guess,” Lance says, shrugging.

“You know Coran said-“

“I know what Coran said.”

There’s just silent eye contact. Hunk‘s still waiting for a better explanation.

“I’m just - I can’t sit still,” Lance tries. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s restlessness, combined with tiredness, and I just. I’m always on edge, all the time.” He blinks up at the ceiling. “I’m still sleeping fine, which I know is more than some of you guys can say, so maybe I’m just overreacting but - I just can’t relax.”

“I get it,” Hunk says. “It doesn’t feel over, even though it is.”

“No, it’s not that.” Lance strokes the edge of his bayard as he struggles to explain the unease in his chest. “I just - I need to be doing something. I can’t sit still. If I stay in one place for too long, I’ll - I’ll lose my mind.”

Hunk steps out of the doorway to take a seat in the viewing deck. “Want me to watch and point out any weaknesses I notice?”

Lance smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

-

Keith’s flying before the rest of them. Lance isn’t sure if it’s because he’s actually better or if he’s just that type - the type who pushes on no matter fucking what, but he’s flying before the rest of them. Lance hasn’t cleared his physicals yet so he’s just allowed to watch as Keith has his fun with the MFE ships.

He looks so natural at the helm, like it should be illegal for him to be anywhere else.

There’s a sort of understanding between Keith and Griffin, Lance notices. And he doesn’t know what it is - he knows they got into a fight one time because the whole class paid for it but they seem to have moved past whatever that altercation was about. It’s the kind of mutual respect that almost matches up to what Lance feels himself for the rest of the Paladins. He sees it in glances and nods and the silence between them.

Nadia is fun to talk to. She has an inexplicable energy with everything she does, like she’s intent on making everything as interesting as possible, be it a nose dive or breakfast. Lance likes that. He really does get along with her and he really does thing they would be amazing friends. But after everything that’s happened, she tires him out.

There’s no other way to put it - they’re worn down. There are small moments when they have fun, but Lance feels it in every joint. He feels old.

-

Keith spars with him. He has to admit, as angsty and war-weary as he feels after liberating Earth, sparring with Keith makes him thrum like a live wire. Every move is charged. Every parry, every strike, it’s a thrill. He doesn’t know why - maybe it’s because Keith’s so strong and powerful that even training feels like life and death. Maybe it’s because they’re in such a familiar rhythm with each other that everything feels wrong until they’re working side by side. It’s one of the only things that gets his adrenaline going, eyes widening, smile pushing at his lips.

His lungs give out on him one day. They’re really mostly better, but Keith and he have also been sparring for four hours since dinner and it has only been a couple weeks since he was released from the medical wing.

“Wait,” Lance chokes out, dropping his Bayard as he falls to all fours and concentrates on trying to slow his pulse. He feels lightheaded.

“Lance?” Keith’s hands are on his shoulders, trying to lift him up a little to look up at him. “Wait, let’s sit down.” Keith guides him to the viewing stands. “Do you need water?”

“I’m good,” Lance groans weakly, hugging his chest. It feels like his chest is filled with xanthorium. “We should probably take a break.”

“Okay,” Keith says. Then he smirks slightly. “I win?”

Lance sticks up his middle finger and Keith laughs under his breath. Lance is still struggling to breathe though, and tears prick at his eyes with the pain in his chest. Keith’s hand is rubbing up and down his back. After another minute he gingerly asks, “should I get someone?”

“No.”

“Water?”

Lance shakes his head. “Just give me a minute.” He turns and lies back so his body is straightened out, and it gets worse at first but then his muscles relax.

“We’ve been going hard and pretty long. I’ll shut it off.” Keith leaves to power off the still running points system.

They wind up heading to Keith’s room. It’s shared with Krolia, who must be out because it’s dark and quiet until they enter. Lance grins and immediately goes to mess with the speaker system, getting to a decent radio channel because the best thing about coming back to Earth is the new music.

“How’s the research going with the Altean robot?” Lance asks idly.

“I don’t know. Allura’s more involved with that. What does she know?”

Lance shrugs and snorts. “Barely seen her since they found that Altean inside the robot.”

“Really?” Keith slumps down into a sofa. “Guess she was always all-or-nothing.”

“Yeah, a lot like you,” Lance teases, taking a seat next to him and leaning back against the armrest. “I’m surrounded by try-hards.”

“Guess that’s Paladin culture,” Keith says.

“No kidding. Shiro isn’t even a paladin anymore but he’s manning the Atlas up in orbit, which he singlehandedly turned into mega-voltron with Allura’s tiara.”

“It was the engineering and the power from the Castle of Lions,” Keith corrects, laughing a little. “You make it sound like he waved his arm and the ship came to life.”

“I mean, that’s kinda what happened.”

They chat for a bit. It’s nice. Even though Lance is tired as hell and should be going to sleep. But he’s not feeling like getting up and walking all the way to his room. Let Hunk wonder where he is for a night.

Lance isn’t sure if he dreams it or not but the lights are out, there’s a blanket over him, and Keith’s shoulder pillowing his head when Keith murmurs, “I’m glad you and the Princess are happy.”

“Mm. About what?” Lance mumbles sleepily.

“Happy together.”

It’s another few minutes before Lance processes that Keith has responded. “What?”

“You know, that you’re... finally together and stuff. I think you’re... I’m glad you found each other.”

_Laughing out loud._ Lance actually thinks those words out in his brain. His muscles are so... heavy. Does he really have to work his tongue to have this conversation?

Keith sounds sad though so he guesses, yeah, okay, might as well put in a little effort. “Yeah.... I think she likes me.”

Keith snorts. “Really.”

“I dunno how I feel about that. Months ago I probably would be.... real happy? I dunno.”

“What, you’re not happy?”

“Nah. There’s... something else I want now.”

“Ah.”

There’s silence. And somehow Lance feels like he missed something.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Lance asks, struggling to sit up a little so he can face Keith.

Keith just pulls him back into his shoulder, wiggling a little beneath him. “Go to sleep, Lance.”

So he does.

-

Life continues as usual. Lance passes his physicals in another two weeks and finally he gets a chance to get out of the garrison and fly around and contribute.

Sparring with Keith is great.

The MFE ships are great.

Reconnecting with his former classmates is great.

Having his family is great.

He feels the best he’s ever felt since Blue took them all to Planet Arus. It really starts to feel like... like the war is actually over. They’ve really won this time. And maybe Haggar is still out there so they can’t let their guard down yet - but it really... this is it. Voltron’s job is done. For now.

Nothing confirms that more than when Keith breaks the news quietly that he’s leaving. Again.

They’re relaxing in Pidge’s room playing video games when Keith drops it on them. That he’s going to go back out there, back up there, to continue work with the Blade of Marmora. That Kolivan and Krolia have been passively searching for remaining members and that it’s about time they get organized again.

Lance reacts in the worst way possible to that.

He can’t stand the thought of Keith - of anyone, he tells himself, going back out into space. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel - but he knows that as soon as the words fall from Keith’s lips Lance is immediately shooting to his feet and locking eye contact with this fleeting dark-haired alien fucking kid.

No words come out. He just lowers his eyes and then leaves.

-

Lance is trying real hard to process what this means. He doesn’t want Keith to leave them again. He doesn’t want to _miss_ him again. He doesn’t want to fly without being able to see Keith flying alongside him, or wake up to eat breakfast without Keith eating next to him. He wants to continue sparring and laughing and in general hanging out with Keith, the boy who makes him feel more at home than anything else on Earth, whose smile is more stunning than the sun and whose friendship is what keeps Lance from panicking too bad when he’s thinking about the past.

And Keith is returning to that life now.

Lance doesn’t know how the fuck he’s supposed to process this.

-

Griffin and Keith have been chatting near Griffin’s fighter plane for..... an hour and a half, now. Lance kind of came in here hoping to talk to Keith - about what, he wasn’t sure, but now he’s stuck running drills as he watches and waits for them to finish whatever is oh so important that they have each other’s undivided attention.

It’s getting tiring. One can only stand a sim leagues under his actual skill level for so long. On the plus side? He’s learned a lot of Altean today. The other side? What. Are they talking about.

They keep laughing and switching from one earnest expression to the next like they’re best friends. Which is interesting because - not that Lance ever paid much attention to Griffin but he certainly paid a lot of attention to Keith and he knows Keith almost got expelled for getting into a fight with that kid. Their conversation looks so serious whenever they’re not laughing.

Eventually Lance gives up and heads to dinner, and he figures that’s that and he can just give up on ever figuring out what it was about and he probably won’t get to talk to Keith today so so much for the effort-

“Do you wanna go a few rounds?”

Lance looks up, eyebrow raised, at Keith, standing with his plate at Lance’s shoulder.

“After dinner,” Keith explains, settling into the seat next to Lance. Everything he does is powerful now. Confidence and strength is in the way he moves. “We’ll catch the sunset.”

Lance swallows and nods. “Um, yeah, sure. In the lions? Or…”

Keith laughs, soft and quiet and it’s a sound Lance cherishes. “Well, I was thinking just a normal plane, but whatever you want.” Whatever you want. Why do those words sound so good coming from Keith?

Lance’s heart flutters in his chest. He glances across the table at Allura chatting with Sam Holt. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Keith seems to follow his gaze. His voice is quieter when he asks, “were you and Allura ever together? Or did I just misread.”

Lance’s elegant reaction is to choke on his chicken. “What? No, no way. I’m pretty sure she was too busy getting over Lotor and I was too busy... you know, being a dumbass.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “First part of that is news to me.” Lance elbows him harshly, earning a grunt. “So it’s a date?”

Lance would have choked on his chicken if he had it in his mouth. “Um, sure.”

“Um, sure,” he repeats, a teasing question in his voice.

“Don’t mock me,” Lance scowls. Keith raises his hands defensively.

“I wasn’t!”

“Sure, it’s a date, if that’s what you.. want to call it.” Lance stares intensely at the chicken on his plate.

“Cool,” Keith says. He lets out a strange chuckle, like he’s letting something go. “I’m going to, um, I’ll catch up with you again in another hour.”

Lance’s eyes flicker to the clock. “Yeah.” They flicker back as Keith is rising, turning away, heading toward Griffin and the rest of the MFE pilots. He seems awfully friendly with them, Lance thinks, but - but Keith just asked him out on a date. Which means - wow. Holy fuck, is this real?

He stands and moves to sit next to Pidge so he can sit there in silence, staring at his chicken with nausea churning in his stomach until Pidge finally looks over at him and asks, “are.. you okay??” She says it skeptically, like she’s weirded out by the fact that Lance isn’t devouring his food, which - okay, that’s probably true.

“Keith…. Um…” He looks up at her, looking for steadiness in her amber eyes. “He kind of… just now, uh…” Swallows even though his throat is dry and there’s still something trapped halfway between his lungs and his esophagus. “Asked me out on a date?”

Pidge’s eyebrows shoot up and she covers her still-chewing mouth with her hand so she can speak. “What?”

“A date.”

“No way,” she laughs. “That’s- ooooo, and what did you say?”

Lance’s eyebrows draw in and he turns his attention back to his plate, heart going mad against his ribs. “I mean, he kind of got me to say yes before he asked me on a date.”

“What does that even mean.”

“Like,” Lance is blushing furiously. “I - I don’t know! Okay - look, am I… am I overthinking it? Am I freaking out for no reason? This is so unlike him, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to - I mean, should I change my clothes or something?”

“Well I’d hope you wear something clean, at least, _Loverboy,_ ” she giggles. “When?”

“In an hour.”

“Holy shit.” She starts laughing. “This is - I have to tell Hunk.”

Lance wheezes. “No way, are you kidding? I came to you because I need someone to ease my anxiety!”

Pidge gives him a scrutinizing look, looking like she’s caught between comforting him and laughing at him. Eventually she sighs. “I’m not surprised.”

“ _What does that mean?_ ”

“I mean - I’m surprised that _Keith_ asked _you_ out on a _date_. But I’m not surprised he sprung it up on you like this, seems like something he would do, and I’m not surprised you’re freaking out all about it like a doofus.”

“Hey!” Lance pouts at her.

“Look.” She sets her fork down and turns to face him fully. “I dont have the best dating advice, but Keith’s our friend. We know him. You know him. So just… be normal. Don’t think too hard about it.”

Lance feels like anxiety is going to eat him whole, but it’s not like she’s exactly _wrong._ He inhales deeply and breathes out with a huff of air. “Okay,” he says nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal. It is. “One of my closest friends and someone I respect and admire just asked me out on a date, but it’s fine, if I just act like my stupid normal self everything will go swimmingly.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” Pidge says, smiling and leaning against the table. “I’m saying… there’s no way you can mess anything up, because you two are already close.” She winks. “That, and I can tell you’re combusting over this, and I want to know how long you’ve been secretly mooning over our leader. Is this why you picked him in Garfle Warfle Snick?”

Lance glares at her, indignant, but at a loss for words because - he doesn’t know? He has no clue how long he’s been secretly… he doesn’t know. But she’s right, he’s combusting. It’s like he felt when Keith chose him to leave the show - because of all the talented, genius highly skilled people on their team, Lance is Keith’s choice. He doesn’t know how to handle it. And now it’s - it’s so much better and at the same time so much worse, he’s… combusting. He’s being incinerated.

-

Keith has game. It catches Lance completely off guard and he’s left a fumbling mess because Keith has GAME. He’s waiting for Lance in the closest hangar, leaning against that stupid hoverbike he rode in on that one night all those years ago. Lance’s breath catches in his throat. So... this is like, a close proximity thing.

He tries focus on the racing wind and not on the fact that they are _on a date,_ as Keith has labeled it. He can focus on the seat firm under his legs, the humming of the engine all around him, the ever unreachable horizon burning up as the sun sinks lower. Keith’s laughing into the roar of rushing air. “We’re gonna dive.”

“No way,” Lance breathes into his hair - hair that smells like clean soap and god damn it, if Keith was planning this it isn’t fair that he didn’t give Lance enough time to at least _take a shower._

“Yes way.”

“I’m not free falling off a cliff! Not again!”

“It’s just like your basic nose dive drill, Lance.” Then Keith looks back at him. “Do you trust me?”

Lance panics, with that playful smile and purple eyes on him, meaning they’re not looking where they’re supposed to be. “Keep your eyes forward!” he screeches. “Are you insane?”

“Do you _trust_ me?”

“You know I’d trust you with my life, asshole, now eyes on the road!” It gets a grin cracking through Keith’s lips as he turns back around.

He guns it in the direction of the cliff. Lance shrieks and clings to Keith’s waist like a corset, but if he doesn’t seem to mind - he races straight off the edge and Lance is squeezing his eyes shut and koala’d around the hard muscle that makes up Keith’s torso and trying so hard to get some air in his lungs as his stomach disappears. They’re careening together off into the swirling sky, all gold and red and beautiful.

Keith pulls up at the last second, the lift from his momentum buoying them up, and then they’re finally flying flat again, and Lance lets out a weak shaky breath and drops his head into the space between Keith’s shoulders. Keith finally comes to a stop sometime a few minutes later, and he softly says, “hey.”

Lance laughs into Keith’s jacket. “Hey.”

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Lance breathes. “I’m great.” He looks up into the sky, swinging both his legs over one side of the bike. Keith does the same. It’s the softest, purest orange he’s ever seen. He feels like if he leans up into it too far, he’ll drown in color. “God, I missed our sun.”

“Me too,” Keith admits honestly. “I missed being able to enjoy the evenings like this.”

Lance looks over at him, his purple eyes catching the orange light and refracting it into a color Lance can’t understand. His hair is fluttering slightly in the breeze, edges curling around his cheeks, his eyebrows, his jaw, the base of his neck. The first time Lance saw this kid, he had round cheeks and messy hair, a pouty demeanor and a stuck-up arrogance. Now he has high cheekbones, tousled locks, a sharp jawline, years of war in his eyes and a chin raised not in arrogance but in determination and confidence. It makes Lance feel lost when he looks at him.

Keith’s eyes slide over to meet Lance’s. He smiles. “What?”

“You don’t have to go back out there,” is what falls from Lance’s mouth. “You don’t have to keep yourself in this fight. You could stay here with the rest of us.”

Keith’s eyebrows pull together, like he’s worried. “I’m part of the Blade of Marmora,” he says quietly. “This is what I belong to. I can’t just sit here.”

Lance turns back to the sunset. “I thought you’d say something like that,” he sighs. “I…” Does he really want to say this? It’s a date, right? Which means this shouldn't be weird? “I don’t want you to leave.”

Keith’s still looking at him, Lance can see his intense gaze in his periphery. “I’ll… I’ll see.” There’s a spark of hope in Lance’s chest as Keith reaches out and folds his fingers into the spaces between Lance’s.

He lets him take his hand for a minute, then pulls it away, shifting closer to Keith instead and wrapping his arms around his middle, leaning his head on his shoulder. Keith picks up on the motion and brings his arm up around Lance’s shoulders, and - his touch is incinerating Lance, but there’s nothing he wants more than this moment to last forever, for the sun to never touch the flaming horizon, for him to stay slotted against Keith’s side so that he won’t wake up one day and Keith will be gone into the void of outer space.

-

“Did you kiss?”

“No.”

“What kind of a date was that, then?”

Lance frowns. “We just talked.” Pidge’s hologram on the opposite end of his bed looks disappointed.

Hunk hums. “No, talking is good! Talking is great! I think it’s important to take things slow.”

“Right, but you’re in love,” Pidge says. “Keith’s leaving soon. You need to seize the opportunity while you have it.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why I don’t want to seize the opportunity,” Lance snaps, crossing his arms and sinking deeper into his blankets. “I - can you believe he’s leaving us _again._ ”

“I know,” Hunk says, voice devastated. “It’s like he can’t stay in one place for too long, like he has to keep moving, or something. Like he’s running from something. I want him to - I want him to stay.”

“Yeah,” Pidge says softly. “I missed him the first time he left. And he came back so different, it’s scary to imagine how he’ll change even more and we won’t be there to see it.” Lance sinks even further into the warmth of his bed. All they’re saying is true, and yet - it barely even comes close to scratching the surface of how anguished he feels.

“I’m _sad,_ ” he stresses, because he has no other way to describe all that he’s feeling. He wishes Keith had never asked him on that stupid date. He wouldn’t be thinking any of this if he hadn’t done that. Or, he would be, but - but it’s different now.

-

It’s their fourth date. Keith’s planning on leaving tomorrow. Lance should have said no - he should be saving himself the hurt he’s bound to bring on himself if he keeps indulging Keith’s dates, but he looks at Keith’s smile and his eyes and the hair framing his face and he can’t remember the word ‘no.’

So he finds himself on their usual spot overlooking the patterns of the desert, sun blooming to life behind them and dawn chill trembling in the air. Keith’s head is in his lap because he just doesn’t care about getting his sand on his clothes, Lance supposes, although he can’t say anything because as long as he gets to sift his fingers through Keith’s long dark hair he doesn’t care either.

“Don’t go, idiot,” he mumbles into the quiet morning.

“I have to,” Keith replies, just like he has every single day Lance has asked. Two days ago he was angry. Four days ago he was in despair. Now he feels numb, like he’s already shielding himself. His eyes trace Keith’s hairline, his widow's peak and the tiniest beginnings of what could be called sideburns if Keith had any facial hair. Lance has been shaving for a while. He hasn’t seen Keith ever pick up a razor.

“I won’t be able to talk to you,” Lance scowls. “With Haggar’s druids still probably on the lookout for Marmorites.”

“Marmorites?” Keith repeats with an amused quirk to his lips. Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving forever, it’s not like im _dying._ Well, I might be. But it’s not planned as of now.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Lance snaps, frowning as Keith laughs. “You’re not going to die, because if you did I’d come and kill you myself. And if you’re not leaving forever, when are you planning on coming back?”

Keith shrugs. “Whenever we build up a solid base again. Earth is an intergalactic hub for trade and travel, now. We’ll need some security, I’ll come back for that.”

“You’re going to come back for more work,” Lance deadpans.

Keith shrugs. “You know, we do need to make money now that we’re technically adults.”

Lance groans. How does he say it? He wants Keith to come back for - not just for a _career._ He wants himself to be a factor in Keith’s decision. But that’s selfish, and he knows it.

Keith makes him want to be selfish. Maybe that’s why a few minutes later when Keith puts his hand on Lance’s jaw, he doesn’t stop him. Maybe that’s why even though everything in his brain is telling him it would be better if he _didn’t_ let this happen, less than 24 hours from the last time he sees Keith for a very long time. Maybe that’s why he leans to meet Keith halfway and when their lips come together it’s nothing but euphoria and gentle touches and tender feelings and soft breathing and a tiny voice in Lance’s brain chiding him for making this mistake. But he can’t help it. He wants this.

They’re kissing and it’s the most innocent thing Lance has done for months. It’s the softest feeling he’s ever experienced, it’s the happiest action he’s ever taken, even if it’s spiderwebbed with the cracks of loss he knows is coming. If he was supposed to pick one moment to remember out of everything in his life, it would be this, here, the feeling of Keith’s hands holding him and Keith’s lips warm against his and Keith’s hair tickling his cheeks.

The longer it goes on, the more he wants, until it’s unbearable so he pulls away and says, “You’re asking too much of me, Keith.”

“Why?” Keith’s voice is rough, his eyes wide, staring at Lance with a voice so open and trusting that Lance wants to look away, but he feels like if he ends this too soon he’ll never be able to go back.

“I can’t - you’re leaving tomorrow and I can’t. I care about you, I do. But I can’t go on doing this when I don’t even know how long it’ll be before I see you again.” Lance is choking on his words. He doesn’t want this, god, he just wants Keith to stay, why is that so hard? “You know I’ll always be by your side. But I can’t do this.”

Keith looks like he saw this coming. He’s staring up at Lance with the most complicated expression on his face, all open and sad and wanting and pleading. “I know,” he says, the sound just barely reaching Lance’s ears.

What does Lance say to that?

“I’m sorry.” Keith’s eyebrows pinch upward. “I have bad timing.”

“The worst timing,” Lance laughs, but his throat is thick and his voice is rough.

“I don’t want to leave you behind, you know,” Keith continues. “You could come with me.”

Lance snorts. “And do what? Drag you down?”

“No,” Keith says, like he’s preparing a whole thought-out response, but if Lance listens to that he’ll - he doesn’t want to listen to it. He shakes his head, clamping his hand down on Keith’s mouth.

“I can’t.” He can’t leave Earth with Keith. Saying goodbye to Keith makes him ache all over, but leaving Earth with him? He… he can’t even consider it.

Keith nods. “Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that.”

Lance lets out a short laugh through his nose at the words that have circled back to him. Fuck, why can’t Keith just _stay._

-

He’d thought, after the moment they shared the previous morning, Keith would have at least said goodbye.

-

Lance wishes he could skip the rest of his life. The way they do in movies, where they show long amounts of time through short flashes of picturesque scenes, or in time lapse, or with text written over a sky to set the mood that reads: 5 years later. Or 9 years later. Or 80. He has no clue when Keith is coming back, and it’s not like his life _stops,_ but it’s… cold. He has no interest in dating. No interest in flirting. Spends his hours with his friends or his family or himself, working out, but every damn _hour_ he wishes he could talk to Keith, see him, hear from him.

Every day he wakes up and it’s fine. He eats breakfast and hangs out with Pidge or Hunk and it’s all fine. He becomes great friends with Romelle - that girl is funny and badass and she’s a lot more excited about sneaking around and exploring places than Hunk ever was back in their days as cadets. He tries to guess at how close Griffin and Keith were before he up and left them again - but they don’t really talk much. Griffin is a stickler for the rules and frankly he’s kind of boring and Lance is baffled at how they spent so much time together in the first place.

It’s fine until it isn’t. Until all four of them plus friends are sitting at a table together and Keith is absent and it hurts. Until Lance beats some especially challenging sim while sparring and he wants to brag about it but no one else works with the swordfighting sims anymore. Until he’s relaxing and thinking about how nice it would feel if there was someone maybe lying in bed with him, or someone sitting in the copilot’s seat, or if he could wrap his arms around someone’s waist as they plummet off the cliff because it’s Keith’s favorite stunt to pull and Lance is starting to get used to the thrill and he loves the rush and the wind and Keith’s hair and _being_ with him.

It’s fine until he doesn’t really feel like eating the chocolate Pidge offers him or seeing the movie with Hunk and Shay are playing or accepting the flowers his friends are passing around on Valentine’s day. Until he’s watching the sunset and it makes him sad just because. Until he’s taking red out on a quick run to Olkari or the Balmera and he can’t help staring at the stars and thinking, _he’s out there._

He almost hates himself for not being sad all the time, if he’s honest. He hates that he can laugh until he’s crying, like, as if it’s not allowed to be happy when Keith’s done such a fucking number on his heart. Romelle and Allura pick out an amusement park that’s been put back in order and get everyone to coordinate their days off so they can go there together, and Lance is not lying, it’s the most fun he’s had in his entire life. But the fact remains that if Keith had been there, it would have been better.

It wasn’t like this when he was hurt over Allura. This is somehow deeper, number, darker. It’s the difference between being heartbroken and being - _really_ being - in love.

-

Every day passes so much like it did before Keith left.

Every day hurts so much more.

-

Four months in he finally feels like he can maybe see himself moving on. He’s sparring against two level 20 sim bots, and it takes him 40 minutes to defeat them both. Months ago he would have been dying to tell someone, but now he’s just tired. He’s about to go for a drink of water when someone else comes up to him, hooded in a deep purple cloak and pointing at Lance with a slender white sword, black at the center. The stranger tilts their head toward the center of the room.

Lance frowns. They’re the same size as him, he figures he’s not too tired, plus - fighting with nothing but robots gets kind of monotonous. He holds up a finger and takes a swig from his bottle before making his way back out to the center and falling into stance.

The stranger waits for Lance to make the first move - they block everything, moving around constantly out of reach, and Lance starts to feel like they’re just toying with him. He grits his teeth in frustration and straightens.

“Are you going to end this?” he sighs. He glances at the clock. “We’ve been here for-” he never finishes saying _20 minutes_ because the stranger surges in his direction, and Lance barely has time to get his sword up to parry. They push forward, as relentless in their attacks as they were in their defense, pushing Lance backwards until he’s in a corner and some kind of adrenaline reserve kicks in - Lance drops all semblance of sparring rules in favor of fighting like a Paladin - no courtesy, no grace, all survival - and things get intense.

Whoever they are, they fight hard. Their strikes are powerful and Lance wonders idly if he should be triggering an alarm or something. He grits his teeth and tells himself to _finish_ this fight, but the harder he pushes, the harder they push back - until Lance finally stumbles back a good 20 feet and morphs his sword back into a gun, dropping it to his side so the stranger gets the idea that he’s not firing but he could. “I’m done.”

The stranger reaches up and takes off his hood, revealing a Marmoran mask underneath. “Seems we’re evenly matched,” laughs the robotic voice through the filter, and Lance tilts his head in suspicion.

And then Keith lowers his mask.

-

“I walked out,” Lance says. He’s sitting in his room in his bathrobe, and Hunk is staring at him with wide eyes. “I said, ‘I need a shower,’ and I walked out.”

“Well, where is he now?” Hunk asks.

“Why would I know?”

“Go find him!”

Lance looks up at him in disbelief.

“Go find him! Out of all of us, he went to you first, obviously he wants to be with you, Lance!”

“I can’t,” Lance whines.

“Yeah, actually, you totally can,” Hunk says pointedly. “You’re just scared because you still have a crush on him and you’ve been sad since he left. But whether you wanna admit it or not, the only solution to that is finding him now.”

“Fuck!” Lance scowls, punching the pillow. He punched a wall once, fractured his wrist, and while a pillow isn’t really as satisfying it’s also not as painful.

“Let it out,” Hunk sighs. And Lance does. He leans forward and yells into his pillow before flinging it across the room, and then promptly lays back (without a pillow, now - that was a bad decision) and shoves his headphones on, turning up the volume.

Honestly, what right does Keith have, _leaving_ and coming back with all these orders and control, and then winning the war and _leaving again._ After kissing Lance but not saying goodbye. And then coming. Back. It feels fresh, the day he left, like it was just this morning that he woke up and Pidge was telling him Keith’s ship was already well past the atmosphere.

Four months. It’s four months and he swears he was close to recovering from all that, close to coming to terms with the fact that he’s just going to have to _accept_ that Keith and he have _different lives to lead_ and - and then he shows up and they spar and he has the gall to _smile_ at him like that.

He wonders how Keith might have looked when Lance turned tail and walked out on him. Imagining it makes his chest hurt harder. Loving someone is supposed to be happy. Why is it so painful?

He stays like that until halfway through dinner.

-

He makes his way over to sit near Pidge, who, judging from the wide-eyed look she gives him, already knows everything. Of course she does. Lance told _Hunk,_ who’s basically a newspaper. His eyes scan quickly for Keith - it isn’t hard to find him, the hall’s cleared out a lot seeing how Lance is an hour late. He’s sitting with Griffin, which sends a bitter taste into Lance’s stomach because seriously, _what_ is so interesting about that guy.

His head is resting in his arms on the table, turned to face Griffin, presumably for conversational ease, judging by how Griffin takes pauses while eating to speak every now and then. Keith raises his head and looks in Lance’s direction as Lance watches, and they make eye contact briefly - Lance turns around and focuses on his rice.

It feels like it’s eating at him from the inside out, though. Either the rice is poisoned and he’s about to die, or he can’t stand one more second sitting here knowing Keith is just _a few tables away._ What is he supposed to do? Should he go over there? Should he wait for Keith to come up to him? Preferably he’d like to avoid Keith for as long as he possibly can. Hunk did tell him to go find him, and technically he has FOUND him.

The part of Lance that used to be good at this knows exactly what he’s supposed to do.

The rice is definitely poisoned. He’s going to throw up.

“Stop having an inner crisis,” Pidge suggests unhelpfully.

“That doesn’t help me avert my inner crisis,” Lance scowls.

“You didn’t let me finish. Stop having an inner crisis and just go talk to him.”

Lance wants to do literally anything else. But here’s the thing - the part of Lance that used to be good at this knows he’s been the passive one in this relationship thus far. He’s let Keith take him places and he’s let Keith push them further and he’s let Keith go and he’s let Keith do everything that’s required effort or risk or nerve. Not the best manners. And the first active step he took was telling Keith not to kiss him - and the second active step he took was walking away from him as soon as he revealed his face.

The part of Lance that used to be good at this knows Keith’s probably feeling way worse than he is right now. So if he really does like him - and he _does,_ he needs to step up.

He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his water before getting up and walking over to where Keith’s sitting. Griffin nudges him with his elbow and Keith straightens to meet Lance’s eyes.

“Hey,” Lance mumbles.

“Hey,” Keith says, and his voice is gritty and guarded as ever, and god, it _hurts._

“Do you want to…” Lance clears his throat. “Go… ride around on. On your bike or something?” He must have faded out, because Keith leans forward a little, and Lance repeats himself before Keith has to ask him to. “Can we TALK.”

Keith blinks, something vulnerable crossing his face briefly before he nods and stands. Griffin thumps him lightly twice on the back, shooting Keith a brief smile before turning back to his dinner. They stand awkwardly for a few seconds before Keith asks, “Here? Or…?”

“No, not here.” Lance swallows. Step up. “Can we go to our usual spot?” No, stop - that’s where Keith always takes him. Step up. “Or, actually, let’s just take a walk.” Maybe Keith won’t want to drive him off a cliff just now. Lance can’t deny he missed that, but it’s for later.

“Okay,” Keith says quietly. Lance offers him a smile, hoping it’ll ease the tension between them a little.

They stroll out of the hall - Lance doesn’t say anything until they’ve exited the building and the stars blanket them in silence. It’s chilly, but getting warmer as spring nears. Lance stops in front of the fountain in the center courtyard, dedicated to Admiral Sanda for her years of service. He stares up at it for some time, Keith silent behind him.

“I missed you,” he starts out. “A lot,” because he owes Keith some honesty, at least.

“Look, Lance, I owe you an explanation,” Keith says, voice defeated. “I’m sorry I left. I…”

“You were scared,” Lance says. “Because you couldn’t tell what I really felt about you and how much.”

“It’s not that-”

“It _is_ that,” Lance insists, taking a seat at the rim of the fountain and facing Keith. He’s changed into Garrison uniform. “Because if you knew how much you mean to me, things would be different.”

Keith watches him silently. Lance inhales a shaky breath.

“As soon as you were gone, it was like I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.” Wow, here come the tears. “I - you didn’t even say _goodbye._ ”

Keith opens his mouth, not saying anything for a moment. Lance takes a moment to collect himself and will his face to settle into something less helpless “I’m sorry,” he says. And fuck, Lance doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but he continues anyway.

“I want you to - I want to spend time with you, Keith, I - I don’t want to live in any reality anywhere where you’re not with me. You put me through the longest four months of my life.” He’s choking with the effort to keep the moisture out of his eyes. “I didn’t know when you were even coming back, if I’d ever see you again, and right as I thought maybe someday I could move on - you show up again! And it’s like-” He pauses, swallowing. “It’s like you’re going to do the same thing where you draw me in and then you up and leave and I’m just - alone again!”

Keith looks like he’s suffering. “I don’t want to leave, Lance,” he whispers. “I never wanted to leave.”

“Right, because your fucking mission always comes first.” Fuck. Lance was supposed to step up here.

“No,” Keith promises. “You come first. You always will.” Lance wishes those words didn’t obliterate him like they do.

“So - why-” He can’t. He can’t even finish the sentence.

Keith looks down at his shoes. “I thought I should put duty first. It’s what I grew up believing in. It made sense. It was easier than dealing with messy things like … like this.” Lance laughs to himself. Messy. He’s messy. God, that’s the most accurate thing he’s heard all day. “But I missed you. I love you. And - and it took me this long to realize it, because… because I was just too busy being a dumbass, I guess.”

God, Lance wants to stay mad.

But he can’t stand one more minute with all this distance between them. He reaches out and grabs Keith’s hands, pulling him closer until he can lean his head forward and let it rest against Keith’s stomach, rising and falling gently.

“You-” tears are falling. “Fuck you. You’re the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”

Keith’s hands come up on either side of Lance’s head, cupping it delicately. “I know. Guess you rubbed off on me.”

Lance shoves him, and Keith stumbles back a few steps, before coming back up and pulling Lance up to his feet. “So why’d you come back, asshole,” Lance demands, voice wavering.

“You,” is Keith’s simple answer. “I don’t want to leave you. Ever.” He stands solid in front of Lance, spray from the fountain misting over them and forming tiny drops in his hair. He’s waiting, Lance realizes, waiting for Lance to accept his apology, his stupid excuse and his inane confessions, for Lance to make the next move. He’s afraid. Keith never was very good at being afraid.

Lance grabs him and pulls him in close, clutching him like he’s going to evaporate into thin air. “Then stay,” he says, and as soon as the request leaves his lips Keith is throwing his arms around Lance and squeezing back with equal intensity.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> song for this fic is changes by xxxtentacion


End file.
